Numa Numa
by drakien
Summary: Sara finds the solution to a bad day. Resopnse to this week's Unbound challenge. GSR all the way, but be warned: Don't trip over the fluff!


Title: Numa Numa

Author: drakien

Rating: Uhh…T? Silly new rating system…

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. If I did…well, let's just say a few things would be different.

Summary: Sara finds the solution to a bad day.

A/N: I've been working on a serious fic, and needed a mental break. Started working on this fluffy little piece, but then I couldn't figure out how to end it. Lo and behold, this week's Unbound challenge lines were posted, and BANG! Here we are. I had fun writing this, but please try not to trip over the fluff…it has been scattered somewhat liberally.  Many thanks to Trialia for psychically sensing my need for guidance and providing the lines this week! Also, thanks to Afissa Shah, for beating me over the head with the Grammar Stick and being the best beta ever, and to ClariceS for the help with the plot. Oh, and yes, I **totally** blew the word limit on that…you could sue me, but I have nothing of value. Also, if this formats weird, blame because it looked fine before I posted.

**_

* * *

"What the hell is that doing here?"_** Grissom exclaimed, torn between exasperation and genuine curiosity. After handing out assignments that night, he had shut himself in his office, determined to beat back the piles of stuff that seemed to multiply when he wasn't looking. He privately admitted that this sort was long overdue, and wondered if a good fire wouldn't just make things easier. He had come across all kinds of random items, and the one he now held in his hand had elicited his outburst. Looking the small red box over carefully, he tried to remember where it came from. Nothing about the box itself was stirring any memories, so he shrugged and opened it. Then he remembered.

Staring back at him was a delicate ring. It was white gold, with a thin band. In the place where a stone would traditionally be perched a tiny, intricate butterfly with diamonds set in the wings. He had purchased it a few years ago on a whim, thinking to give it to Sara for her upcoming birthday. And then came the Marlin case. Debbie Marlin, who looked eerily like Sara, who had collected butterflies…one of the few cases that had ever really gotten to him. He hadn't dealt well with it, and his 'relationship' with Sara had been deteriorating ever since. With a sigh, he closed the box and put it in his desk drawer before turning to tackle another stack of files.

* * *

Two hours later found him seated behind his desk going over some reports. He looked up quickly and flinched as his office door banged open, then was just as quickly slammed shut. Sara Sidle stood in front of his desk gripping the back of the chair, raw fury etched in every line of her body, and for reasons unknown, she was soaking wet. He privately admitted to himself that she was, if possible, even more beautiful when she was pissed off. Normally lovely, when she got angry all of the fire and passion that was normally contained was given free reign. And God help the poor soul who was on the receiving end of her rage. Hoping it wasn't directed at him this time, he bravely ventured, "Sara, what's wrong?" 

"Would you like a list," she grated, eyes narrowing. Taking his startled silence as an affirmative, she plunged ahead. "My _splendiferous_ day started at the end of shift yesterday, when I arrived home to find out that the genius living above me had left his bathtub faucet running while he took a nap. Needless to say, water seeped through my bedroom ceiling, leaving my mattress, clothes, and bookshelves soggy, to put it mildly. I spent the better part of the day cataloging my books so I can submit an insurance claim and get them replaced."

Grissom winced sympathetically as Sara pushed herself off the chair and began to pace, too infuriated to stand still. "After that, I decided to try to sleep for an hour or two, but my couch, if you recall, is not known for its comfort. I gave up on sleep, walked into the bathroom, and found out that the water damage had caused my life to descend into the next circle of Hell. No power, ergo no clothes dryer or hot water. So, following a fricking **_cold_** shower, I managed to locate some clothing that was only slightly damp, and I came into work hitting _every single _red light on my way in. Every one, Grissom. Oh, and that case you sent Greg and me out on? Lost the coin toss and had to go dumpster-diving. After such a _fantastic_ adventure, imagine my lack of surprise when we were hit with a random torrential downpour. And do I have a change of clothes? No, of _course_ not. Just…just…ARRGH!"

She sighed, flopping down in the chair. "Honestly, I think The Powers That Be looked down today and said 'We hate you, Sara Sidle!'" She looked up guiltily. "Sorry, Griss. I didn't mean to come in here and bitch like this, but I was about to rip off the head of the next person to talk to me."

Grissom was still somewhat fixated on the image of Sara in the shower, so he was slightly unprepared when he realized that she was no longer speaking. Caught off guard, he said the first thing that came to mind. "Crapon Sink."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

He flushed slightly. "Sorry," he said. "Your story reminded me of a guy I knew in college. He had this theory that there were these invisible molecules, Crapon Particles, which were responsible for unfortunate events. The more Crapon Particles congregating in a particular area, the worse things occurring at that location."

Sara was still looking at him like he'd grown a second head, so he continued nervously. "My friend, Gary, he was a self-proclaimed 'Crapon Sink'. Worst luck I've ever seen. He once was driving, and pulled over to help an old lady who had a flat tire. As he got out of his car, he fell into an open manhole and broke his leg."

Grissom risked looking up, and found a small smile playing around the edges of Sara's mouth.

"Crapon Particles, eh?" she asked.

"Yeah."

She looked at him suspiciously. "Wait a minute. Did you just voluntarily share a personal anecdote with a coworker?"

"Of course not," he said airily. "I merely relayed an entertaining story to a friend who was having a genuinely shitty day."

As he spoke, he had gotten up from his chair and walked over to stand beside her. She looked at the hand he held out for a long moment before reaching out to take it. When she did, he pulled her up to stand next to him. Pivoting slightly, he reached out and snagged his jacket. He draped it around her shoulders, and then turned to rummage in his desk drawer. Finding what he was looking for, he saw the red box and a plan formed quickly. Snagging the box and placing a key inside, he turned back to her holding it up.

"What's that?" she asked suspiciously.

"My spare house key," he replied, handing it to her. "The alarm code is 774353. And before you yell at me, it's a slow night, all of your paperwork is caught up, and I have both power and hot water at my house. You can take a shower and get into some dry clothes."

"Griss, I…" she stammered.

"Go on, Sara," he said, smiling. "If you're good, I'll even grab us something for breakfast on my way home."

She just stared at him. "Okay," she said. "Who are you and what have you done with my boss?"

"Sara," he sighed, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I…"

Before he could continue, Sara interrupted him. "You know what, Griss? Forget I asked, okay? Right now, I am just going to accept your offer at face value." She paused. "Umm…"

Grissom, divining her unasked question, replied, "I'll page you before I leave the office. I should only be about an hour or so behind you."

"Thanks," she said, and turned to leave.

"Sara," he called out as she left. She stuck her head back through his door questioningly. His eyes locked with hers. "I'm trying."

Sara looked at him for a long minute, then flashed him her thousand-watt smile, the one she seemed to reserve just for him. With a wave, she was gone.

* * *

It had taken Grissom a little longer than expected to beat back the encroaching piles of paperwork, but he was finally ready to go. He sent one last critical e-mail before logging off and picking up his pager to send Sara a message. Tasks complete, he turned off his office lights and walked to his car.

* * *

Sara was in Gil Grissom's house. She sat on his couch, still trying to wrap her brain around what had happened earlier. He had given her a key, and the alarm code. Her clothes were currently in his dryer. She had taken a bath in his ridiculously luxurious Jacuzzi bathtub, and had even commandeered his bathrobe while her clothes were drying. And the ring…what the hell was that? She studied the ring on the finger it now decorated, but eventually shrugged. Right now, she was just waiting on Grissom and the dryer. Finding a recent issue of Forensics Monthly, she was reading quietly when her pager went off. Picking it up from the table beside her, she smiled as she read the text message. 

"_On my way. Breakfast?"_

She quickly typed back. _"Sure"_

Thinking that was the end of it, she set her pager down and picked the article back up. She was surprised when it went off again.

"_Check e-mail"_ it instructed.

She was puzzled. Check her e-mail? She stood up and walked over to Grissom's computer and opened the web browser. Logging in, she saw a message from him. Curious, she opened it.

Sara,

I thought this might help…Gary passed this along to me a while ago, and it always helps me out when I'm dealing with Crapon Particles. See you soon.

Grissom

To View:

Click the following link:

About midway down the page on the right, there is a picture of a face next to "WATCH THIS MOVIE". Click there.

After it loads, make sure the speakers are turned up, hit "PLAY", and then choose "Watch with Subtitles" (my personal favorite)

Sara followed the instructions in the e-mail, absently noting that Grissom must have invested in DSL based on the download speed. She checked the speaker setting, chose the recommended button, and sat back to watch.

By the time it had finished and looped into a repeat mode, Sara was doubled over and laughing so hard tears ran down her face. Grissom chose that moment to arrive home. He leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight of her in his house. She caught sight of him, and made an effort to control her laughter.

"Griss, that is freaking great," she said, still laughing. "They should patent that as an anticrapon treatment or something."

He noticed the ring on her hand. "Feeling better?" he asked, walking into the kitchen.

"Oh, yeah," she replied firmly. "Hot water makes everything better, and I'm officially in love with your bathtub." She looked down, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm, uh, sorry about the bathrobe, but I needed something to wear while my clothes…" She was interrupted by the sound of the dryer going off. "Yeah," she said, gesturing toward the laundry room. "I'm just going to go get changed now."

Sara beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom, detouring to the dryer to pick up her clothes. Grissom shook his head, smiling slightly. While she was in the bathroom, Grissom emptied out the contents of the bags onto the kitchen counter. With swift efficiency, he assembled the ingredients. After about ten minutes Sara reemerged, looking slightly wary.

"Breakfast's ready," he informed her.

She walked over to the counter, where he was deftly transferring omelets from the pan onto two plates. "You cooked," she asked, somewhat incredulous. "For me?"

"No," he corrected gently, "I cooked for _us_. Now c'mon, or your eggs will get cold." He walked to the table and set their plates at the two place settings. Taking one of the chairs, he gestured for her to sit as well. She did so, picking up her fork and eyeing the omelet suspiciously.

"It's vegetarian," Grissom offered. She looked up, apparently surprised. "See," he said smugly, "I do listen occasionally." Sara shook her head and grinned, then cut into her breakfast.

* * *

Breakfast had been finished in companionable silence. As they were doing the dishes, Sara spoke. "The ring is beautiful, Griss," she said softly. 

"So are you," he replied, without thinking.

Her head whipped around quickly, eyes narrowing. "You're doing it again," she informed him.

"Doing what?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.

"Saying things like that," she said. "It makes me think…well, never mind what it makes me think. But you say those kinds of things today, and tomorrow you won't even talk to me, and Grissom, I can't keep…"

She was abruptly cut off by his mouth firmly covering hers. Sara was too shocked to respond. Hell, she forgot to breathe. Grissom pulled back slightly, worried that he had overstepped their invisible boundaries. Sara still stood there, looking slightly shell-shocked. His hands framed her face as he tilted her head up so he could see into her eyes.

Her eyed refocused, and she met his eyes. "I think the Numa Numa song is more powerful than we thought," he said seriously. **_She grinned, and he took it as a sign to kiss her again.

* * *

_**

A/N #2: Okay, so I'm sure everyone has seen or heard of the video mentioned in this story. If you haven't, the instructions to view it are accurate, but e-mail me for the site...stupid document manager wouldn't let me put it in. It's hilarious… Bonus points go out to anyone who can tell me the significance of Grissom's alarm code. Also, on an amusing side-note, Gary is an actual friend of mine, who came up with the Crapon Particle Theory. And yes, he really did fall in a manhole and break his leg, poor guy. I live for reviews…they make my Inbox not so lonely!


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